


Fooled Around (And Fell In Love)

by RazzAppleMagic



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Gay Billy Hargrove, Harringrove Week of Love 2021, M/M, Mostly funny, Pool Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Skinny Dipping, Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Steve Harrington Is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazzAppleMagic/pseuds/RazzAppleMagic
Summary: Billy moves closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s legs. He kisses Steve’s knee, runs a finger along his calf. He’s beautiful like this, all wet and flushed and — fuck,naked, in the pool. Now that the anxiety of getting caught has gone away, there’s a new sort of thrill to being out here like this. Just the two of them, close and unguarded, doingthings.“Been thinking about you all day,” Billy murmurs, kissing Steve’s knee again, brushing his lips again Steve’s skin, up his thigh. “Been wanting to take you here, like this.”Steve snorts. “What, in the pool?”In which, Steve visits Billy at the Hawkins pool after hours ;)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	Fooled Around (And Fell In Love)

**Author's Note:**

> -slides into the fandom like: “heeeeyyyyy”- Long time lurker here, but I’ve never written anything for these boys before. I started playing around with some ideas, but I’ve never really finished anything. I was on Twitter today and I saw that this is the first day of the Harringrove Week of Love and that the prompt was “pool sex” and this just sort of… happened? 
> 
> So. Yeah. I’m really, really fucking happy to contribute something to this fandom finally! I hope I did them justice and that you guys like what you read :) I truly love this ship with every fiber of my being.

It’s not that Steve’s afraid of the dark. It’s not. 

It’s just that, when you live in Hawkins, Indiana, and you've seen the types of things that  _ thrive _ on darkness, the sorts of creatures that lurk in the darkness, the monsters that live off of it… You sort of develop a healthy cautiousness towards the dark. 

Steve Harrington has had enough monster hunting to last him a lifetime, thank you very much, and if he never sees another Mindflayer or Demogorgon or Evil Dog Thingy again, it’ll be too soon. Which is why he’s asked Billy again and again and  _ again _ , to please fucking be on time getting out of work. 

He hates sitting in his car in the dark parking lot of the public pool. It’s always empty and the street lights always make these scary little pools of light directly under them that really just seem like the perfect setup for some creepy shit to happen in. He tries to busy himself by playing around with the radio or tidying up his car but that can only really keep him busy for like, thirty minutes, tops. It’s only a matter of time before his mind starts wandering and he starts imaging shit that might not even  _ be _ imaginary out in the dark. He just… doesn’t need this right now. 

The pool’s been closed for like, an hour at this point so there’s no reason for Billy to still be in there. Steve considers just leaving his sorry ass here and letting him fend for himself, but Billy’s car’s in the shop and if Billy has to call his dad to get a ride home his dad will be pissed, so he probably won’t even do that he’ll just end up walking home which means he could put himself in danger of being torn to pieces by a Smeagol (Dustin’s said that word before, Steve’s pretty sure it means a creepy thing) or something and— 

Fuck. Steve glances at the watch on his wrist, squints to see the numbers in the darkness. It’s 40 minutes past the time that Billy was supposed to be out, and now Steve is starting to panic. What if whatever the hell a Smeagol is already  _ got _ Billy? What if Billy’s trapped in there right now, alone, trying to fend for himself? 

Steve’s lungs feel too small in his chest at just the thought. He’s told Billy not to let himself be alone in Hawkins, he’s warned him that it’s fucking dangerous but Billy doesn’t ever listen. Billy always seems to think he’s fucking invicible when he’s not. 

He’s really, really fucking not. 

Steve curses as he opens the door to the Beamer, keys jangling too loudly as he spins them on his forefinger. As a precaution, he unlocks the trunk and pulls out his bat — he’s been through enough to know that it’s always safe to bring some kind of protection. If a Smeagol is anything like a demogorgon, guns aren’t going to be much help. 

He closes the trunk carefully, hoisting the bat up over his shoulder. He’s cleaned it since the demodogs, but he’s pretty sure that there’s still crusted blood on some of the nails that he’s never going to get off. He doesn’t lock the car, not this time. If he needs to make a quick getaway the last thing he wants to do is fiddle with his keys and risk getting his head bitten off (he’s been there, done  _ that _ too, and no fucking thank you).

Billy’s really fucking lucky that Steve likes him. Or whatever. He’s lucky that he’s got a boy...friend…? Like Steve? Whatever the fuck they are, Steve still doesn’t really know for sure. It’s not like it’s super common for two guys to just, ya know. Whatever. He’s just lucky, okay? And he better fucking thank Steve for going in alone to save his sorry ass. 

The door to the locker rooms is open, propped that way with brick. It’s normally locked at this time of night, and the fact that it’s just fucking open like this sends a chill down Steve’s spine. Whatever the fuck this is, it’s smart enough to prop the door open. Like it’s waiting for him. 

Steve takes a deep breath and lets himself into the locker room as quietly as he can. The room is dark, silent save for the distant dripping sound from one of the showers. It smells like chlorine and cigarettes, and Steve's hands are shaking where they're gripping tightly to the wooden handle of the bat. 

“Billy,” he whispers, daring to cut across the silence. His voice echoes in the darkness around him, his blood rushing to throb in his ears. “Billy, are you here?” 

Steve takes another step in, bat out in front of him like a shield. He can’t see shit and he has no fucking idea where the light switches are in this place and every single thing about this entire situation just  _ sucks _ . 

Steve is about to take another step forward when— 

A flickering sound. An orange glow. The smell of tobacco. “Took you long enough, pretty boy.” 

Steve screams, hurling around with his bat in the direction of the noise. He  _ knows  _ it’s Billy, but it still scares the fucking shit out of him. Without really thinking, he swings, shouting and stumbling back when the lights turn on, stinging his eyes. 

Billy is standing against a doorway, a cigarette between his fingers, watching Steve with a wildly amused look on his face. He starts to laugh, but his expression slips a little when he notices the bat in Steve’s hand. 

“What the fuck, Harrington?” says Billy, lowering his cigarette away from his face. 

Steve relaxes, loosening his grip on the bat and letting it fall to his side. It hits the concrete with a loud thud, and Steve just scrubs his free hand over his face with a choked-off sort of noise. 

“Dude,” Steve whines, wanting to cry. If this is a joke, it’s seriously not fucking funny. “You can’t fucking scare me like that, I could have hurt you.” 

Billy raises his brows. “With that? Harrington, you could have fucking killed me.” 

Steve winces. “Yeah, well. Don’t do shit like that, it’s not funny. I thought you were in here getting your ass eaten by a Smeagol or something.” 

“A Smeagol.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Like,” Billy twirls the cigarette in his fingers, watching Steve with something like amusement on his face. “From Lord of the Rings?” 

Steve’s cheeks flush at that. Alright, so like, he doesn’t know shit about Lord of the Rings, but the stupid Party got all of the other monster names from like Lord of the Dragons or something so why couldn’t a Smeagol be a thing? So Steve just holds his ground, because: “Yeah. A Smeagol.” 

“So let me get this straight,” Billy says, that stupid fucking grin on his face. “You came in here, with  _ that _ ,” he gestures towards the bat, “because you thought that Smeagol was eating my ass?” 

“Yes?” 

Billy bursts out laughing, a perfect sound, and Steve feels every ounce of anxiety melt away. Billy has this cute little way his eyes crinkle when he laughs — like, really laughs — and he’s doing it now and Steve just forgets about everything other than  _ Billy, Billy, Billy.  _

“Fuck, Steve,” says Billy, wiping his eyes, laughing still. “I knew you were the jealous type but I promise you, I’m not sneaking around behind your back with a fucking  _ hobbit _ , oh my god.” 

Steve frowns. “I don’t know what that is.” 

Billy lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes one last pull before dropping it to the concrete floor and smushing it out with his sandal. He lets the smoke out and takes a step forward, finally closing the distance between them and pulling Steve into his arms. 

He smells like… Chlorine and cigarettes and coconut sunscreen and  _ Billy _ . It takes everything Steve has in him not to just, like, melt into a puddle on the floor and seep into the drains. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist, pressing his face into Billy’s neck bringing him  _ closer closer closer. _

“Mmm,” says Steve, kissing the perfect spot below Billy’s jaw. “You’re a nerd, you know that?” 

Billy chuckles, his whole body shaking with the sound. “No one would ever believe you.” 

It’s true, Steve thinks. No one would ever believe him if he told them that Billy Hargrove was secretly a super, giant,  _ mega _ nerd with a baseball card collection and a fucking library in bedroom of books that Steve couldn’t even read if he tried. Though, no one would believe that Steve even knows this shit about Billy in the first place. That he gets to have Billy, this Billy,  _ his _ Billy, all to himself. Something precious. Their little secret. 

“I was waiting for you,” Billy hums, a low sound in Steve’s ear. “Thought you’d get the hint and come in lookin’ for me.” 

He’s using that special voice, the one that he only uses with Steve when he wants them to  _ do stuff _ , when it’s just the two of them all alone in Steve’s empty house. Billy moves his hand up, threading his fingers into Steve’s hair and pulling on that sweet spot that makes Steve— 

“What are you doing?” Steve whispers, pulling back a little. Out of instinct, he turns to look around him, make sure no one is looking. 

The room is empty, because, well. It’s 8:30PM and the pool’s been closed for an hour. But still. There’s something about doing…  _ this, _ anywhere other than the safety of Steve’s bedroom or the comforting darkness of one of their parked cars that sets Steve on edge. 

This is the  _ pool. _ Where Billy  _ works _ . They can’t just… just… 

“What’s wrong?” Billy asks, his voice doing that thing it does when he’s teasing. “There’s no one here, Stevie. We’re alone.” 

Steve tenses, glancing around again. Billy’s right, obviously, they’re alone and it’s not like anyone is going to walk in on them, but Steve is still super fucking anxious. 

“What about Heather?” Steve asks, but Billy only responds by tugging at his hair again, bending a little to lick a stripe up the side of Steve’s neck, making him shiver. 

“She’s gone. Left hours ago.” Billy kisses the exposed skin of Steve’s neck, trailing little pecks up to Steve’s jaw, pulling Steve’s head back by his hair and moving him where he wants. “It’s just us, baby.” 

Steve thinks about protesting again, about arguing and suggesting they go literally anywhere else, but before he can get the words out, Billy’s cock brushes against his thigh and all of Steve’s inhibitions go flying out the window.

“You sure?” Steve manages, letting himself melt just a little into Billy’s touch. 

Billy nods against him, rocking his hips forward with purpose, showing Steve how turned on he is. Steve should probably say no. He should probably — no, scratch that,  _ definitely _ not let Billy fuck him in the locker room of the Hawkins pool. He should say no, but Billy’s got that hypnotic way about him that makes it impossible for Steve to say or do anything other than breathe Billy in. 

Billy’s like a force, something like magic that just compels Steve in a way he’s never felt before. He’s all Steve thinks about, every day when he wakes up, every night when he goes to bed. He’s taken up permanent residency in Steve’s mind, and Steve hopes he never leaves. 

He lets Billy touch him. Let’s Billy take him apart, lets Billy slip his hands under his shirt, lets him run those perfect, calloused fingers along his skin. Steve can’t fight it. Doesn’t want to. 

He’s hard, aching, and Billy is palming him through his shorts. It’s good, so fucking good, and Steve tells Billy so, kissing his curls and gasping into his ear. 

“Not here,” Billy says when Steve presses his hip up with a little more force. 

“Wha—” Steven starts to ask, but Billy is pulling away. His warmth is gone and Steve is suddenly aware of how fucking hard he is, how exposed and vulnerable they are out here in the fucking open. Billy is stepping away, back, back, back until he’s too far for Steve to reach. He’s grinning wildly, his dick hard and obvious in his lifeguard shorts. 

“Not here,” he repeats, turning on his heel and heading in the direction of the pool entrance. 

Steve follows, close behind, cock throbbing and pulse rushing. Billy goes fast, stripping off his shirt and tossing it back for Steve to catch, toeing off his sandals, walking straight out towards the blue glow of the water. 

No. No fucking way. 

“Billy,” Steve says, warning, but it’s too late. Billy drops his shorts, kicks them to the side and dives into the pool with a resounding splash. 

Fuck. Steve takes it all back. Billy’s a fucking idiot and an asshole and Steve wants nothing to do with him. He stands there and watches as Billy surfaces, his strawberry-blonde curls all bronze in the moonlight. Billy’s smiling at Steve from where he’s treading water, drops of starlight clinging to his sun-kissed skin. 

“Billy,” Steve says again, backing away slowly. “I’m not getting in there.” 

Steve doesn’t swim. 

It’s not that he can’t, he just… doesn’t. Not anymore. Not since.... 

Well. Not in a long time. 

“Aw, c’mon Princess,” says Billy, swimming up to the ledge. He folds his arms up and props his head on them, feet kicking behind him. He gives Steve a look, a fucking pout, those stupid blue eyes shining all silver and glowing in the light. It’s not fair. 

“I don’t swim,” Steve tells him, which Billy  _ knows. _

Billy looks at him, quiet for a moment. He chews on his bottom lip, the way he does when he’s thinking hard about something. 

“Come here.” Billy’s voice is soft when he says it. 

Steve hesitates. 

“You’re going to push me in.” 

Billy clicks his tongue, rolls his eyes and splashes a little water in Steve’s direction. “I’m not gonna fucking push you in. Just. Come  _ here. _ ” 

Steve sighs, his feet moving before his brain can really process what’s happening. He trusts Billy, and if Billy says he won’t push him in, then he probably won’t. Billy Hargrove is a lot of things. He’s an asshole. A prick. A stupid macho man with a shitty fucking temper. But he’s not a liar. 

Billy pushes back from the wall a little, making a box with his arms. He looks up at Steve expectantly, and Steve understands right away. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t need to swim. He can just.

He reaches down to untie his shoelaces, pulling off his sneakers and his socks. He takes off his shirt, too, because it’s fucking hot out here and he likes this shirt and he’s not about to get chlorine all over it. He walks to the edge of the pool, to Billy, and sits down, letting his feet slip below the cool surface of the pool water. 

It’s nice. The chilly water on his legs. It almost makes him miss swimming, makes him miss the way it felt to go out into his own pool at night and let the water just pull him in. He used to like swimming. Before. 

Maybe he could grow to like it again. 

Billy moves closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s legs. He kisses Steve’s knee, runs a finger along his calf. He’s beautiful like this, all wet and flushed and — fuck, naked, in the pool. Now that the anxiety of getting caught has gone away, there’s a new sort of thrill to being out here like this. Just the two of them, close and unguarded, doing  _ things. _

“Been thinking about you all day,” Billy murmurs, kissing Steve’s knee again, brushing his lips again Steve’s skin, up his thigh. “Been wanting to take you here, like this.” 

Steve snorts. “What, in the pool?” 

Billy nods, careful fingers trailing up Steve’s leg, rubbing him through his shorts. Steve isn’t as hard as he was before, but Billy’s quickly working to change that. 

“Mhm,” hums Billy. He grabs Steve’s hand and laces their fingers together, tugging him in a little. “Wanted you.” 

The way his voice breaks sends a chill down Steve’s spine that goes right to his cock. Makes him feel warm all over, makes him hard. 

Billy raises Steve’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles one by one, little droplets of pool water touching Steve’s skin like fire. Billy looks up at Steve, meets his eyes, and pulls Steve’s forefinger into his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact as he sucks on it, running his hot tongue along Steve’s soft skin. Steve moans, leans back and looks up at the stars. There’s a cool breeze blowing through the empty space of the pool and it feels good when it hits Steve’s face. 

“Billy,” Steve gasps. His cock is hard in his shorts, straining uncomfortably against his thigh. With his free hand, the one  _ not _ currently in Billy’s mouth, he reaches down to rub himself, craving some kind of friction, some relief. “Fuck, Billy—” 

Billy slips Steve’s finger out, lets Steve’s hand drop into the water. He swims up closer, planting his feet on the ground and rising up just a little. The water isn't that deep, so Billy can stand flat with his nipples just above the surface. He’s looking at Steve with hungry eyes and flushed cheeks. Steve doesn’t stop him when he reaches out to undo Steve’s button, doesn’t pull back when Billy pulls down the zipper. He inhales sharply when Billy grabs him, has to reach up and shove his knuckle into his mouth to stop himself from crying out when Billy strokes him. 

“You’re so pretty, Stevie,” whispers Billy, pumping Steve’s cock. “Too fuckin’ pretty. Too fuckin’ pretty for your own good.” 

Steve preens at the praise, takes his knuckle out to groan softly. Lets Billy hear how good he makes Steve feel. 

“You’re gorgeous, Steve.” Billy tightens his grip, pulls a little harder, brushes his finger over Steves tip just to loosen up and start all over again. He’s so good at this — so fucking good at making Steve feel incredible. It’s like he can read Steve’s mind, like he knows just what Steve likes and when he wants it. “Fuck, baby, I wish you could see yourself right now.” 

Steve bucks his hips forward, slipping a little. He feels the water come up a little higher and he startles, gasping and sitting up, wide eyed. 

Billy watches him, places his free hand on Steve’s thigh and rubs his skin with little circles. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re not gonna fall in. I’ve got you. I won’t let you.” 

Steve’s never told Billy about Barb. He’s never told Billy about…  _ any _ of it, really. But he knows that Billy’s pieced some of it together. Billy knows that Steve has a  _ thing _ about pools, and he never makes Steve talk about it. Even on nights when it’s hot as balls and Steve’s air conditioning just isn’t doing the job, Billy never asks to go use the pool. He just gets them ice packs and holds Steve’s hand from where they’re sleeping apart, too hot and sweaty to cuddle up close. 

Steve relaxes. Billy’s here. Billy’s got him. Billy won’t let him fall in. 

He nods, swallowing hard. Billy meets his eyes, holds his gaze with those steady, perfect blues. “I’ve got you,” he says again, and Steve knows that he means it. 

Billy moves closer, pushes Steve back a little onto the concrete. When he moves again, it’s to put his mouth on Steve’s cock. 

Steve gasps, whines, as Billy starts to suck him off. His feet are still in the water and Billy is hot and wet between his legs. Billy’s curls are soaked, dripping all over Steve’s skin, causing his hair to stand on end and his body to shiver. 

Steve doesn’t last long. In minutes, he’s throwing his head back, bunching his hands in Billy’s hair and spilling into his mouth. Billy groans around him, digs his fingers so hard into Steve’s thighs that he’s sure there will be bruises tomorrow. Billy is breathing heavy through his nose, swallowing Steve down without any trouble. He’s rutting against the wall of the pool, and the next thing Steve knows, Billy is pulling off of him, reaching down between his legs and working himself, jerking his own cock beneath the water. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything before Billy is cumming, sinking down into the water with his eyes rolled back and grunting at the feeling. Steve watches him with his mouth wide open. 

No. 

That didn’t…

He didn’t… 

“Billy,” says Steve, once a moment of silence has passed between them. “Billy.” 

Billy laughs, that sweet, familiar sound, and it cuts into the silence, echoing against the water. 

“Billy.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“ _ Billy.”  _

“I can shock the pool overnight, it’s  _ fine _ ,” says Billy laying out on his back with his arms. He floats out, a little farther than Steve would like. “Do you know how much nasty shit happens in this pool? This is a nothing.” 

Steve laughs and puts his dick back in his shorts. He’s had sex in a lot of places in Hawkins with a lot of girls, but this? Getting his dick blown by  _ Billy Hargrove _ in the Hawkins pool late at night? This is one for the books. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Steve scoffs, kicking some water in Billy’s direction. “You know that right?” 

“Yeah,” snorts Billy. “But you love me.” 

“Yeah,” says Steve. “I do.” 


End file.
